Dear Wonderbook And Video,
It’s been awhile since I’ve been rooting through your endless, ribbed shelves of dusty paperbacks, perusing the eighties movies, and scavenging for bargain CD’s. While I do think of you sometimes, daydreaming of the overwhelming smell of old books, and glass bottles of soda, we needed this time apart. You’ve always had some evil power over me, making me want to stay for hours and hours even though you haven’t had a bathroom since I was 7, and being too awkward to go to the next store over, I’ve held my bladder at gun point so I can find just the right book every time.
You’ve made me accumulate dozens of novels I’m sure I’m never, ever, EVER going to read. But you convinced me to buy them anyway. A Latin to Spanish dictionary! It’s only two dollars! I keep falling to the seductive force of yet another Edgar Allan Poe short story collection because it has one story I’ve never read before, or a poem, or the cover’s just cool. But I’m done with that. I’m done with your hypnotic halls of history books, the pile of free posters I can’t help but look through. I won’t let the prospect of another brown bag sale drag me over to your place again, at least, not this year.
I know you’ll be in my life again soon enough. I won’t be able to resist your siren’s call for long, but until then, I’ll appreciate this time apart.